


Should You Be So Kissed

by Anonymous



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Is probably nonsense, Look I tried okay?, M/M, Merlin AU, but still, hope you like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 14:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20448956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A true love’s kiss, the people say.





	Should You Be So Kissed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rillaelilz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillaelilz/gifts).

> I know you doubt yourself, but please belive me when I say: you're an incredible writer, a gift to the fandom and true friend. There is nothing, _nothing at all_ you should be ashamed of and nothing you couldn't achieve.

_Doubt thou the stars are fire;_  
_ Doubt that the sun doth move;_  
_ Doubt truth to be a liar;_  
_ But never doubt I love._

(Shakespeare - Hamlet)

It happens so fast, and yet, Kili cannot help but think that he should have prevented it somehow, that he should have seen it coming.

But no. He misses all the signs, all the whispers.

Perhaps it’s because he’s happy.

They’re out hunting, just the two of them, but they race deep among the Crown’s estates, into parts rarely explored, following their pray.

The privilege of a Prince. Yet Fili doesn’t claim it for himself; instead he finds himself a perk more precious to him and places a bow in Kili’s hands, pointing towards a royal stag. He knows it will bring him pleasure, knows his companion to have better aim than most. Kili’s joy and excitement - a more worthy entitlements.

He has never treated Kili as a servant, not once.

And yet, just then it’s Fili who notches an arrow and draws it back, his eyes blue like ripe cornflowers, when they stare right into the setting sun, unflinching, as if he was its equal (he might be), trailing a spooked duck.

A step, another, a startled look framed in eyelashes of spun gold.

He folds like a wet sheet of parchment and Kili’s heart stops in horror.

***

The Prince is breathing and appears unharmed, allowing Kili to resume with the petty chores of his own existence.

He reeks of magic, but one that Kili can’t untangle until he knows where the strings are anchored.

He finds what he’s looking for within moments: a sad pile of bones in scraps of a plain dress. She waited and he never came.

Now she’s found another.

_Release him_, he orders with the full authority of his Power, but his heart has never known vengeance like hers and it does not know how to compete.

And so, Fili sleeps on.

***

_A true love’s kiss_, the people say.

Kili scoffs at first, but then… the more he turns this thing in his mind, the more convinced he becomes.

All the magical books and scrolls in the Land and in the end the man on the street knows best.

Or a woman.

They line up from dawn, with King Thorin desperate enough to concede. The Heir to Camelot must not remain incapacitated so.

Kili glowers, but keeps his distance. He is damned if he’ll be defeated by this.

***

He thinks about Fili – his kindness, his warmth, his fears and a dash of arrogance.

“The least they could do is fetch me a pillow. A blanket maybe. Instead of plonking me on a slab of marble like a piece of meat on display” – is what he’d say.

Kili would laugh and bring him an afghan, the stretched one, in colours that can only be described as dun. The one they shared since they were children.

And he wouldn’t like the fuss; Fili’s way is to watch, but be unseen, and draw his own conclusions. Perfectly courteous and gallant with the ladies, but his hands never stray, his eyes only see another person, whose most appealing attribute is that he doesn’t understand them yet.

He _is_ curious, yet more careful of the things he touches than Kili, lest he breaks them.

By contrast, the women who come to him now hold no such reservations: a brush of his hand, his cheek, his brow; the most insolent try to bite his lip or pinch him – those Kili removes himself. If Fili was here, he’d shy away from their hands and their lips, he’d try to protect himself. He’d bow, but move just outside of their reach.

There is only one pair of hands that Fili trusts implicitly, only one set of lips he leans towards.

But he hasn’t had a say in those lips claiming him so publically, or deciding his future for him, the future of _Camelot_ no less. So Kili keeps his distance still.

***

By the morning Kili is homesick.

He misses the sky-blue eyes, the dimples of pleased laughter, little insolences and liberties that Fili takes and quiet, constant attention, which is his way of caring.

He misses the confident strut and tiny hesitations that go unnoticed by all but Kili; the good natured teasing and thoughtful silences; the lazy mornings and the meaning behind the braids that Fili’s worshipful fingers put in his hair at such times.

They can’t last of course, but for a handful of minutes they are Kili’s to have and Fili looks up at him with such adoration, devotion and trusting hope that Kili worries about his heart, trapped in the cage of his ribs.

“Command me,” the man who will be King whispers and Kili bids him back to kisses, back to soft lips trailing sensitive skin and further sacrifices of delighted gasps and drawn out moans placed on the altars of their bodies.

None of it now. Only terrifying stillness and a face without any emotion, as if they placed him on a plinth for the procession of mourners, not excitable would-be princesses.

Kili swallows his rage, but cannot banish his despair or loneliness.

He picks up a tome after tome and reads up on curses of love.

***

By the end of the second day Kili gives up and mounts his horse.

_Release him,_ he asks again. _And I’ll release you in turn._

_No._

_He’s mine._

_Then claim him._

He bites his lip. If only it were that simple. If only he’d thought to kiss his love before anyone knew what happened.

He calls forth his Gift and releases her anyway; Fili would not want another to suffer on his account.

***

The third day is agony.

Kili pines for the smallest of things.

Fili’s breath tickling the fine hair next to Kili’s ear when he leans in to whisper a secret.

His stubby thumbs, which should never be underestimated as he grips a sword.

His obedience, when they call for him and he says ‘yes’, but the echo in the palace misunderstands and only repeats: ‘fuck you’.

The delicate network of fine lines around his eyes from where he’s learned how to laugh when he wasn’t supposed to; the ones that must be kissed regularly to help them stay in place.

Little huffs when he’s bested and doesn’t want to admit it.

Twitching corners of his mouth when he knows he’s right.

Soft kisses to the inside of Kili’s wrist like ‘please, _please_’, when he’s made his own bed perfectly, transparent in his hopes of having Kili join him in it and ruin the neat corners.

Patience, as he tries and tries to meet the standards of others, to be everything for everyone, all at the same time, and to reconcile and hold within himself all the sharp-edged demands, so no one else has to.

Relief, when Kili asks nothing at all of him, except his love; relief because nobody else wants him for his sensibilities, his thoughts, his fragile emotions, the things that bloom in his chest and crowd his mind and make him vulnerable. Relief, because it’s returned a thousand-fold.

Courage written into the straightness of his spine, because he stands between Kili and the danger, and quiet awe when Kili touches his elbow and calmly steps in front of him, wrapped in his Power.

Fili.

The only one who’s seen a low glimmer of magic in his eyes and said:

“I love you no less for it. And if I should be afraid, you will have to teach me how.”

***

On the third night Kili can take it no more.

The whole Camelot is asleep and those few who aren’t are easily persuaded to succumb to their dreams with a small nudge of magic.

He wants it to be only theirs.

He’s _always_ wanted it to be only theirs.

The kiss is only a soft, little thing, like a brush of butterfly’s wings, inadequate expression of the brilliant wealth of passionate emotion behind it.

A heartbeat, another, silence and Power rushing to his fingertips, ready to destroy the world if it has been betrayed.

Blue eyes fly open with the softest of gasps, disoriented, but saved when they find Kili’s own emotion-filled gaze.

“And now they’ll all know.” Despair, gratitude and shock call out.

“Let them.” Sweet, unwavering love replies.

“But –“

“It’s about time we placed a coronet on that wild head of yours.”

“King Thorin –“

“I suppose I could always roll over and go back to –“

“Don’t you _dare_!”

Warm, calloused hands pull at him until Fili can press his own declaration of one true love upon his lips.

“Where did you go?” Calmer, quieter, only concerned for the other’s safety.

“At first I was hers. Then I was lost.”

“But you’re not lost now.”

“No. Now I am found.”

***


End file.
